


Merry Christmas, With Love.

by drimnotgaywatson



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: 25 days of ficmas, Christmas Fluff, Clueless John, Clueless Sherlock, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Johnlock Fluff, M/M, Teen Angst, Teenlock, clueless just clueless, someone save our sons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:28:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drimnotgaywatson/pseuds/drimnotgaywatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Sherlock realizes his feelings for John and learns the true meaning of Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thought now would be a good enough time as any to start writing for Sherlock. I used to write for other fandoms but ended up stopping because I lost my joy for writing along the way somewhere and have been wanting to pick it back up for awhile. So this is my first time actually sitting down and writing anything for a few years so please be kind. This is also my first work for the Sherlock/Johnlock/(going to attempt it) Mystrade fandom and I'm pretty excited.

  
  
  
  


He must have crumpled and re-crumpled the shopping list he was working on three or four times. Several others he had given up on previously were littered across the floor of his room. What he was doing he didn't know—he just knew he needed to get a grip over himself. But it was on the fifth time of attempting to rewrite his list that he threw his notebook across the room and shoved his laptop across his bed.  
Mycroft who was just getting ready to pass his little brother's room to drop off his bags into his own room had come to halt in the door way; leaving the bags forgotten.  
“What has you looking so troubled, brother my?”

Sherlock remained unmoved on his bed; staring blankly at his duvet. Mycroft's appearance didn't seem to bring any amount of shock to him. Sherlock knew his brother would back home sometime this week from University for the holidays.  
Taking his brother's unusual silence instead of his usual loud protesting as a sign of welcome he stepped into the room. He picked up the discarded notebook from on the floor. 

“Christmas list for John Watson?” he read out loud in question; his eyebrows raising to his hairline. 

“Put that down.” Sherlock barked. 

“I thought you didn't like Christmas or the holidays in general?” 

Now Sherlock was perplexed. 

“I-I don't.” he blinked and he finally met Mycroft's eyes in a brief glance.  
“It's trivial.” his gaze fell back onto his bed, because he just doesn't understand.  
“A marketing ploy just like all of the holidays.” 

 

 

Mycroft took another glance at the notebook in his hand then around his brothers room. He took in the discarded clumps of paper littered across the floor.

“You seem to have put a lot of thought into it for being so trivial.” 

Rolling his eyes Sherlock huffed out and turned onto his side.  
“I don't know why I thought I could talk to you, I knew I couldn't.” his words came out muffled into his pillow and now it was Mycroft's turn to roll his eyes. 

“Please stop with the dramatics Sherlock. You know I can't hear you when you mumble on like that.” Mycroft drawled out; stepping further into the room.  
“I'm just trying to understand.” he then added finding himself now sitting on the edge of his little brother's bed. He looked down at him. 

Sherlock had now found interest in counting the cracks in the hardwood floor. He was just assuming that his father would probably be sending in someone to wax and buffer when Mycroft began speaking to him again...but Sherlock wasn't listening. 

“Sher—” he tried once more but was instantly interrupted. 

“John bought me a present.” Sherlock finally admitted. 

Mycroft was taken aback. 

“And so do mum and dad, and our aunts and uncles.”

Sherlock's eyebrows knitted together.

“This—this is different.” 

“How so?” Mycroft questioned and he always knows which buttons to press down on when it came to Sherlock. 

“I'm done talking.” Sherlock barked out and turned on his side again; facing away from his brother. 

Mycroft let out an impatient huff.

Sherlock took his pillow and clutched it close to his chest. He refused to speak. 

“You care a great deal about him, don't you.” 

Sherlock pulled a face though he knows his bother cannot see it..and he hesitated. 

 

 

“Of course not.” 

_Another pause._

“Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side.”

With that Mycroft's face fell and he frowned. Once again his brother held on to every word he says. Mycroft wanted to reach out—but he hesitated. 

“Sherlock look at me.”  
_Silence._

“Look at me?” he asked once more, a little more suggestion and not as much demand in his voice. He isn't going to get anywhere if he demanded Sherlock. They both knew that. When Sherlock finally turned around he refused to meet Mycroft's gaze.

“I'm sorry.”

The words made Sherlock's ears perk up and finally he looked up at Mycroft with big eyes. 

“What?”

“I'm sorry—you are so much like me most of the time that I forget at times just how different we really are.” 

“My feelings on sentiment did not change, because they are ones of my own...but that doesn't mean that whatever you are feeling isn't—valid.” and wow why were his palms sweating? It wasn't like he was giving him the talk on the birds of the bees—this should be simple. Mind numbingly simple. 

But Sherlock was still looking up at him. He had peaked his interest and he was actually _listening_ so he must continue. 

“I'm not saying it's going to be easy—” he recalled his previous relationship. His first and his last relationship and he recalled everything. 

“It could hurt—he could break your...”

“I don't love him Mycroft. He is just my fr—”

“You and I both know that is wrong.” Mycroft stopped him right there.  
“John Watson seems to be more than that to you. Does he know?” he knew that the question was dumb and that was only confirmed when his brother shook his head.

“Do you think he feels the same way?” 

 

 

Sherlock licked his lips and gave a curt nod now.

“His pupils dilate sometimes..and he puts up with me way longer than most had...most do. Yes of course he does. I'm not daft. I just don't...” his fingers curled into his sheets in frustration.  
“I don't know how?” Sherlock didn't sound so sure of himself and to tell the truth he really didn't. 

_How to what?_ he thought to himself but Mycroft understood quite enough.

“Take it one step at a time, hmm? Let's try not to get too ahead of yourself. How about you tell me a little more about this John Watson. Clear your head. Then maybe you'll have some solid thoughts for what you want to get him. Can't think well on that clogged up brain of yours.” 

It wasn't meant as an insult and Sherlock didn't take it as such this time.

“You don't have to do that.” 

Mycroft struggled but he managed to give Sherlock a small half smile. 

“I want to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this chapter this afternoon when I woke up. Then I had to leave to go to work and I've been itching and itching to finish up writing this. I was worried that I wouldn't have it posted by tonight...but alas I just finished and I am here to bring it to you. I am really enjoying the comments and the kudos. I am happy that you all are liking it and I hope you continue to like it!

Ever since the talk that he and Sherlock had the previous night it had opened some old wounds that he didn't like to think about. Some feelings had resurfaced. He needed to get his mind off of Gregory it was enough that he had to see Gregory with her on campus all of the time but now he has to deal with thinking about it while away. He dug his glove covered hands deeper into his pockets as he walked further down the street. It has been over four months. But they were friends before anything else for years. So the loss of a friend, his only friend hurt more than a loss of a lover. It was almost enough to make him cringe. There were times that Gregory would try and call him and he would be tempted...half tempted to answer it. But he never did. He would delete them the second he got the chance. Holmes' are very tough people to love and Mycroft hopes that this John Watson doesn't give up on Sherlock the way his Gregory had. 

He shook the snow flakes from his head and made his way into the cafe with a sigh. Grateful for the warmth that that small coffee shop had to offer. The smells of the imported coffees, various teas, and cocoa's soothed him. He picked a table near the back by the window and eased off his jacket. He set it across the back of one of the chairs and then took a place in line. He watched as a few heads behind the counter rushed around working on the customers orders. What he didn't notice as he was lost in thought was the line of customers moving at a quick pace or the man taking the orders. It was when a voice saying “next” took him off guard, a familiar voice that made a shiver run down his spine. Mycroft looked up and to his dismay it was Gregory behind the counter taking orders. 

The man cleared his throat when his and Mycroft's eye's met.  
“Next?” he said again in an unsure voice. 

 

The emotions on Mycroft's face only lasted only for a moment before he schooled back into his usual expression. 

“Gregory.” he approached the counter.  
“Didn't know that you work here. Thought you weren't coming back for Holiday.” 

Greg looked taken aback. He was shocked. It was the most Mycroft had spoken to him in months and yet he knew about his plans. 

“Yeah well those plans have sort of changed. So I came home and picked up this job for the holiday.” the younger man explained.  
“What can I get you?” he was already making out a cup with his name on it.  
“The usual?”

They frequented this cafe often. Right. 

Mycroft knew Greg had more to say, but he wasn't sure that he wanted to hear it. 

 

 

“I know your usual changes with the season.” he continued.  
“It's the Christmas season. But it's the beginning of the Christmas season—so the Vanilla Almond Hot Chocolate, right?” 

 

Mycroft eyebrows furrowed but he gave a curt nod. He began reaching into his front pocket as Gregory processed the order on the computer and pushed the cup for the workers to start. When the cup was returned to the front Mycroft tried handing Greg the money. 

“Already taken care of.” he stated pushing the cup towards Mycroft. 

“Will you please just let me pay for my Hot Chocolate.” 

“Can't the order was already put through, next.” 

Mycroft took the cup gingerly and made his way back to his table. He set the cup down and debated on making his hot chocolate to go. He looked back over at the counter and Greg was back into work. The line didn't really die down and he figured he was safe enough from any further conversation. 

He pulled out his chair and took a seat and looked out of the window. The streets were still busy despite the snow which was falling down heavier. It wasn't really sticking. It wasn't as cold as it should be for that. But it was still dreadful regardless. 

Taking his cup again he took a slow sip. The writing on the cup catching his eye. He pulled the drink from his lips and studied the words. It was more than just his name. He swallowed what was in his mouth hard.

__  
Please come back after I close up.  
The back door will be open.  
We need to talk.  


A frown tugged at his lips.

He could now feels eyes on him and it was just all too much. He stood up from his chair and pulled his jacket from the chair. He put it on in a rush. Debated on leaving the drink but he had come all this way, surely he wasn't going to leave it. So he grabbed the cup and readied himself for walking in the snow again as he pushed out of the cafe. 

 

Like his older brother Sherlock spent a great deal thinking about what they had talked about. They had spent hours talking just last night until their mum had come up and told Mycroft to put his stuff away and that it was time to come down for dinner. Of course she had gushed that she was so happy to have her whole family around the dinner table again. Sherlock wouldn't admit it to anyone out loud but he actually enjoyed it. He and Mycroft were so close when they were younger but as Mycroft grew older the drift between them grew larger and to be honest Sherlock missed his older brother. He missed him even if they didn't see eye to eye. Of course when it comes down to it he will always choose to annoy him whenever he sees fit, but he is the younger brother...that is to be expected of him.

That day Sherlock went into school feeling just a little bit more nervous around John. Now that he knew and acknowledged his feelings for his friend he wasn't sure how to act around him. He knew he wasn't ready to go _“Hello, John. Good friend. My best mate. I've come to the conclusion that I may have very strong feelings for you.”_ for a split second that morning when he had walked into the school doors he thought it could work. But after mulling it over for a few moments he realized that it may be one of those a bit not good things that John says he does sometimes. Just randomly explaining something like that, no. He could do better than that. He could do so much better. 

That afternoon instead of going to Sherlock's house after school John approached his friend after the final bell of the day to ask him if he would like to come over his house instead. 

“Why?” Sherlock ended up saying defensively because they had always went to Sherlock's house after school always. Even during rugby season John would always stop by...and that ended up being the first normal Sherlock thing he had done all day...and John didn't take any offense to it he was actually glad that he was finally himself again. He notices that every year Sherlock really gets all wishwashy around the holiday seasons. 

John then explained that his mum said it's been awhile since she had seen Sherlock, or even him, her own son for that matter and that she demanded that he should come over. So there they were and no sooner than John opened the door and let Sherlock inside there were arms enveloped around him. 

“Sherlock, dear. It's soooo good to see you.” she squeezed and Sherlock blinked aback and took John's mothers appearance in and smiled just a little.  
“It's good to see you too, Mrs. Watson. You seem well.” and she really did. When he past saw John's mom she was in the midst of trying to get a divorce from her husband. Not eating. Not speaking. Not sleeping. She had bruises that never seemed to fade away. Now clearly she is much more lively. Clothes were pressed. The bags that were under her eyes gone and she looked several years younger. Weight a normal amount for her size. She was taking care of herself. It made him happy. 

“I am deary. I really am.” her smile reached her eyes and she moved aside and turned toward the staircase. 

“Harry, honey. John and Sherlock are here. It's time to come down now and could you please bring down that last box of decorations.” 

 

“Oh are we decorating the tree today, mum?” John asked. 

“Yes we are. So you two hang up your coats and put down your backpacks. You can do your homework after supper. Pork Roast and greens tonight.” 

“Sounds lovely.” Sherlock smiled. 

Mrs. Watson returned the smile but then her face fell. 

“Oh. I didn't even think. Here I am taking you away without a second thought. I hope that your family wasn't planning on decorating your tree tonight.” 

Sherlock blinked taken aback. 

“No. I mean. I never. We never... we don't decorate it ourselves.” he explained; shoving his hands into his pockets. Coat already hanging on a hook and his backpack on the floor next to John's.

“My mum likes to pick the biggest tree that can fit in our house and they pay people to decorate it with these big and god awful looking decorations.” 

Mrs. Watson put a hand over her heart a frown tugging on her lips. 

“You mean you never decorated a tree before? It's a tradition.” 

Sherlock shook his head. “No. can't say I have.” 

Though it came as a shock to his mother it didn't come to a shock to John. The Holmes' didn't do things around the holidays that normal families usually do. In fact Sherlock and his brother didn't seem to enjoy the holidays much at all. If John had known that they would be decorating the tree tonight he would have just canceled plans for the day and promised to meet up tomorrow. He hadn't even imagined that Sherlock wold react the way he had about his picking up a present for him. But he wasn't going to bring it back. 

Maybe perhaps today would be good for him. John thought to himself as John's mother ushered Sherlock into the living room. Perhaps Sherlock's feelings for Christmas comes from not knowing the true meaning. John joined his mom and Sherlock inside the living room along with Harry who had just brought down the final box of ornaments. 

John's mother was already turning the TV to a Holiday Music channel. 

“Kids should we do the classics or that pop stuff that most of the kids listen to these days. I really do love the classics.” 

Harry rolled her eyes. 

 

 

“Classics are good mum.” John and Harry both replied at the same time; knowing that will be the channel that their mother decided on regardless. 

“Sherlock?” 

Once again Sherlock eyebrows furrowed.  
_Why would she care.  
Why would they care?_

 

“It really doesn't matter to me. Mrs. Watson.” the music was already filling the room before the words even came out of Sherlock's mouth and both John and Harry laughed from their spot on the couch. 

“Why don't you sit down.” John suggested. 

“But I thought that we were.” 

“Alright.” Mrs. Watson interrupted; grabbing a bag from behind the chair.  
“You sit. This is another tradition.” 

“Well...alright.” Sherlock sat and felt out of place. He doesn't like not knowing what is going on. She handed a wrapped box to Harry, then one to John. 

_What presents? But it isn't even Christmas?_

Then Mrs. Watson stopped in front of Sherlock and Harry and John both exchanged a look of surprise. 

“There is one for you too. It's a family tradition every year and you are very much like family.” she handed a box to Sherlock and he held it in his hands for a few moments while Harry and John each tore into the wrapping paper. 

So many emotions were going through him he didn't know what to do. 

Both John and Harry compared their little gifts and Mrs. Watson looked to Sherlock.

Sherlock was still staring down at the box. 

“Well open it, sweetheart.” 

His mouth was dry. 

“Right.” 

With a slight tremble in his hand Sherlock ripped at the top wrapping of the paper.

The top of the box had a picture of a Chemistry Beaker on it. 

 

He ripped off the rest of the wrapping paper and seen that it was an ornament. 

“I don't know what to say.” he looked up to Mrs. Watson in wonder.  
“John?” he questioned and held out his ornament. 

and John just shrugged taking a look at it.

“I had no idea, but that's pretty cool.” 

“Every year the kids get a new ornament to put on the tree and since you are decorating it with us this year, it's only fair that you have one of your own to put up. 

 

“T-thank you.” 

Beside him John smiled. Though he himself had no clue that his mother did such a thing he was glad about Sherlock's reaction..and he wonders just about how much Sherlock had missed out on. 

 

 

The sun had finally set and the last of the late night customers had just left; the door to the cafe swinging closed for the last time that night. Greg made his way around the counter and locked the front door; pocketing the keys. He took a look at the clock and sighed; hoping that Mycroft would turn up at some point. 

Busying himself he wiped down the counters, and the tables. He refilled the sugars and the flavoring. He checked and stocked the cooler and when he came back out, Mycroft still had not shown. He clocked himself out. His shift was over but he remained. He took a seat at a table and kept on glancing at the clock. 

He wanted, he needed to talk to Mycroft—to explain.

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little side note though I really don't feel like it needs to be clarified the struggled half smile at the end that Mycroft gives to Sherlock is not because he doesn't want to help Sherlock. It's because he obviously struggles with sentiment and he also doesn't want to end up being the cause of Sherlock ever being hurt. He wants to prevent it. He has felt heart ache and he would do anything for Sherlock not to feel some of the things he felt. But if I was going to be completely honest I didn't think that this would be this much 'angsty' to start with so I apologize. 
> 
> Please tell me your thoughts and any _constructive_ criticism you may have! I really hope that you enjoyed it and I can't wait until I can write the next prompt tomorrow!!!!!


End file.
